


Angry Ice Master Stuck On a Roof

by WriteOnMyWay



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, modern!AU with everyone being young and stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteOnMyWay/pseuds/WriteOnMyWay
Summary: Thomas Blanky was not stupid, but he was human and therefore prone to doing stupid things. Occasionally. Mainly when his best friend, Francis Crozier, was around. This time was not an exception.





	Angry Ice Master Stuck On a Roof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookywriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookywriter/gifts).



> Prompt 13 - "I'm not drunk enough for this" with Blanky and Crozier.  
> Based off that video about Harry the Scottish man.

“I don’t know, Francis. This doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Oh, but it does! C’mon, Thomas, it’s just a roof, don’t tell me you’re afraid!”

Blanky looked up to where his friend was pointing and scratched his beard.

“I’m not afraid.  **I’m** just **not drunk enough for this**.”

“Here,” Crozier held out his bottle which was already less than half-full. “Liquid  _courage_.”

“Oh  _fuck off_.”

 

 

Thomas Blanky was not stupid, but he was human and therefore prone to doing stupid things. Occasionally. Mainly when his best friend, Francis Crozier, was around. This time was not an exception.

“Fuck off with your fucking phone in my fucking face!” growled Blanky. The slating under him  _looked_  sturdy but did not  _feel_  so, which made him  _really fucking_  nervous, and the metal in front of him did not look promising either. The fact that Francis was now wheezing with laughter from a safe distance and fumbling with his phone did not help at all.

“What’s going on?” asked someone cheerfully. “Thomas, what are you doing up there? Wait, is he stuck?”

“He is,” confirmed Francis with an equally revolting happiness worsened by his Irish brogue. “I’m documentin’ it!”

“James, punch him!”

“Whatever for?”

Blanky tried to take off his shoes to throw them at his traitorous friends but decided against it as soon as he started sliding down. He was so focused on trying not to fall and break his neck that he could barely understand what Francis – still half-drunk and painfully unsympathetic – was saying about the gutter and some metal pin.

“And don’t put too much weight on it!”

James’ interjection was the last straw.

“WHERE THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO PUT MY WEIGHT?!” boomed Blanky, scaring a couple of birds sitting in a tree nearby and sending Francis into an uncontrollable laughing fit. “I CAN’T PUT MY WEIGHT ON THE ROOF, IT’S DEAD THIN! I CAN’T HOLD ON TO THE GUTTER! WHAT AM I MEANT TO DO WITH IT?! OH, HOLD IT FOR FIVE MINUTES, FRANCIS, IT’S ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!”

Out of the corner of his eye Blanky could see the curious faces of his neighbors (almost all of whom were either his friends or acquaintances) attracted by the noise and an apparent promise of free entertainment but he just couldn’t bring himself to care, and his fury only doubled when he heard Fitzjames’ disgusting giggling.

“SHUT UP, JAMES! DON’T SHIFT YOUR WEIGHT – WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! I CAN’T PUT MY WEIGHT ON THE FUCKING ROOF? I CAN’T PUT MY WEIGHT ON THE GUTTER? WELL, WHERE IS IT MEANT TO GO?! I CAN’T JUST FUCKING…  _MOVE_  IT!”

“Don’t be gettin’ so agitated,” Francis finally managed to stop cackling and was wiping his face. “Jopson’s gone to bring a ladder. You alright there?”

“Never better. Just you wait till I come down.”

“I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I’m  _never_  drinking with you again.”

“Eh, you said so last month and a couple months before that. Tell you what, next time I’ll do the climbin’… PUT YER SHOE DOWN!”


End file.
